


I Need to Say

by Katlyn1948



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Afterglow, F/M, Gendrya Week, Humor, Other, Return of Spring, Sweet, Taylor Swift song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:34:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25789654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katlyn1948/pseuds/Katlyn1948
Summary: Arya returns to Winterfell as spring arrives
Relationships: Arya Stark & Sansa Stark, Arya Stark/Gendry Waters, Podrick Payne/Sansa Stark, Sandor Clegane & Arya Stark
Comments: 2
Kudos: 71





	I Need to Say

**Author's Note:**

> This is my one and only submission for Gendrya week....  
> I've been super busy with work and haven't had the time to write. I do hope you enjoy!

The return of spring was a celebrated event around Winterfell castle. It was long awaited, ever since the last Wight fell after the battle and the Night King vanquished. The winds had grown warmer and the sun would rise high in the sky, melting the ice and snow that was left behind.

It had taken months, even as the battle at King’s Landing roared on. But as Daenerys sat on the throne, with Jon at her side and imp guiding them both, the spring heat had begun to settle over the lands.

Sansa had welcomed the coming season, basking in the feeling of warmer airs that had graced the North. It was nowhere near warm enough to yet shed her heavy furs, but a few more moon turns would likely change that, and she would soon be parading around in the light fabric of her dresses.

And as the season turned, so did Arya’s ship, heading for the harbor just a few days ride from her childhood home. She had decided to take her leave after the Battle of the Queens, opting to sail at sea for a time in order to calm the internal war going on within her head. She had promised she’d be gone for only a short while; just long enough for her to heal the wounds that one could not physically see.

Sansa had seen that her ship was well stocked and supplied with whatever she would need for several moons out on sea. Jon and Daenerys had bid her well trip and Bran left her with a cryptic message, one she was still trying to decipher as she made port in White Harbor.

‘Forgiveness will always welcome you.’ Her brother had said to her before she boarded her ship. His parting words had confused her, for she had no acknowledgment as to what he was trying to convey. She was sure what she needed to be forgiven of or who would be the one to forgive her. She certainly wouldn’t be begging anyone for forgiveness, for she had had nothing to be sorry for.

Sure, it did come as a shock to her sister and Jon as to her sudden departure, but they had seemed to accept her decision to take the time she needed to heal.

But as soon as her ship departed from the docks at King’s Landing, she could not help but feel regret for leaving. Perhaps she had blown things out of proportion after Gendry admitted his love for her. His words had terrified her, so much so that they had left a bitter taste in her mouth. He was drunk, she’ll give him that, but was it right for her to put him in a cage for something he probably didn’t remember saying the next morning?

Even their encounter during the council meeting had been strained, and she thought she had reason to attack his words before he had a chance to speak them. It was easier to avoid him than to confront her mistake. It was easier to run than stay.

But one could only run so far, and Arya Stark was tired of running.

Not a mere six months at sea, was she ready to return home and greet the turning season.

And with that turning season, came change. Change was good, especially after all that Westeros had gone through. Villagers and farmers, merchants and blacksmiths; they were all looking for change, greeting the new reign with open arms. And although Arya hated to admit it, Daenerys Targaryen was doing a fine job a ruling.

As her horse trotted down the King’s Road from White Harbor to Winterfell, Arya noticed the people of Westeros thriving. Crops were blooming and although there was still a large sum to be paid to the Iron Bank, coin and revenue were traded.

There were smiles and laughter of children as she weaved through towns along the road; a very light contrast to the lands she traveled just months ago.

It was wonderous sight, and she could only think of the people of Winter Town and how they would be fairing with the changing season.

Even as she camped, taking her rest, with just herself and her horse, she didn’t have to be on guard. There was no suspicious feeling or concern that there would be looters or rapers, just passing villagers making their way to a new town to start a new life.

As morning crested and Arya continued her journey home, her mind began to wander.

She was curious as to what Gendry would be doing.

The last letter she had received from Sansa had mentioned the newly appointed lord had journeyed west, to Lannisport. He was to train with Jamie Lannister in the art of sword play. Even with one hand, Jamie Lannister could outmaneuver anyone, aside from his wife, Brienne of Tarth.

But that letter was months ago. Who knows where the young Lord of Storm’s End is.

For all Arya knew, he could be on some odyssey around Westeros.

It wasn’t a bad idea, in fact, perhaps she should do something of the sorts. There were so many places to Visit in her homeland, some she had never been to and some she would like to see without the prospect of Gold Cloaks chasing her.

The walls of Winterfell gave her chills down her spine as she trotted through the open gates.

She had heard rumors that Sansa had opened them for the people of Winter Town to come and go as they please, turns out it wasn’t a rumor, but pure truth. Her sister’s heart had always aligned with what was best for the North; what was best for her people. And being the Queen in North was proving just that.

Arya pulled her horse to a stop as soon as she entered the gates.

People were bustling around, gathering supplies or doing daily chores. It was reminiscent of a time where she and her family were whole and happy. A time that had long been forgotten.

“Can I take your horse for you, my lady?” A boy of about ten namedays asked her. He had come from nowhere and she was startled by his soft voice. Not many people could do that, but she had been out of practice there of late.

She gave the small boy a smile, “Of course, but only if you call me Arya.”

The boy’s eyes widened, and his lips spread into a cheeky grin. He knew her name; everyone did but meeting the savior of the realm would be the highlight of his life. “Yes, my lady… I mean, Arya… Princess Arya…I mean…”

“It’s alright.” Arya laughed.

The boy smiled and turned on his heel, guiding her horse to the stables. 

Arya took in the sight around her.

The courtyard had been repaired; the broken stone from the battle with dead now replaced with smooth granite. The walls had been mended from when the dead dragon had tumbled them down. There was no longer a hole in the side of the castle where her chambers used to sit, and the smithy looked as if there was no damage done to it at all.

It was very different from when she left it nearly a whole nameday ago.

It still looked like Winterfell, but there were new bits and pieces that were added that gave it a refreshing feel, it was still her old home, but with added touches to make it new.

“Seven fucking hells.” A hoarse voice sounded from behind her.

Arya tried to suppress her smile, it was The Hound after all, but it had been so long since she last saw him. He was still a pain in the arse, that would never change, but she missed him, even if she hated to admit that.

“Clegane, it’s good to see you.”

“What the fuck are you doing here? Lady Stark never mentioned your return.” He grumbled as he made his way to where she was standing.

“My sister doesn’t know…and I could ask you the same question. Last I left you, you were in King’s Landing, what happened?”

The Hound shrugged, “It was too fucking hot.”

“And you thought the frigid cold would be better?”

“Better than melting your balls off, yeah. The wine is also better.”

Arya scoffed, “No it’s not.”

The Hound only grunted and made off towards the armory, subsequently ending their conversation. She only smiled and ventured on her way inside the castle, determined to find her sister.

She was sure to be around somewhere.

Arya searched in the kitchens, then the dining halls, and all through the lower level of the castle, but there was no sight of her. Surely she wouldn’t still be sleeping, it was near midday. Sansa was always the first to rise when the sun peaked over the horizon, so there would be no possible way she could still be in slumber.

But Arya could be wrong, so she took the steps up to where the chambers were held, walking through the familiar hallways as she came to where her sister had taken their parent’s old rooms.

She tested the latch, making sure it wasn’t locked, before pulling the door open.

The solar was empty, but Arya could hear noises coming for the adjoined bedchambers. She shuffled her way through, weaving around the large oak table in the middle the solar and past the bookshelves adorning the adject wall.

There was no hesitation as she threw the latch open, stepping through her sister’s bed chambers.

As soon as she entered, Arya wished she had taken the time to listen before barging through her sister’s private room.

The sight before her was one she cared to never see again.

She had found her sister, gracefully pinned beneath the body of a very familiar knight.

Arya should be happy for her sister, that she found someone to be intimate with, but she had never expected Podrick Payne as the potential suitor, nor did she think she would ever see her sister in such a manner.

Sure, she was far from innocent herself, but this was Sansa. The one person, aside from their mother, to chastised her about proper etiquette and things a lady should or should not do. This was something their mother would die from seeing, if she wasn’t already dead.

“Arya!” Her sister squealed as she pushed Podrick off. “Get out!”

Arya couldn’t move. She was stuck at the doorway, trying to piece together what she had just witnessed.

“I’m…right…I’ll give you two sometime.” She managed to stamper out before swinging the door close and turning to the oak table behind her. Luckily, there was a pitcher of wine and Arya didn’t hesitate to grab herself a goblet.

Although she preferred the taste of ale, she would make do with what her sister had on hand; the wine an unfortunate habit Sansa seemed to have picked up from Cersei Lannister.

She took too gulps, finishing the goblet clean, before pouring herself another cup.

A few minutes passed before Sansa emerged from her chamber, a silk robe tied tightly around her body. Podrick looked disheveled, with his hair askew and his shirt half tucked in his breeches. He said nothing as he scurried his way out of Sansa’s chambers, leaving the two sisters alone.

“Do they not believe in knocking on the high seas?” Sansa chastised as she took her own goblet of wine.

Arya’s cheeks burned as she tried to remove the image of her sister from her mind. It was something she would never forget, no matter how much she wanted to.

“I apologize. I was looking for you, but I didn’t think…”

“I am woman with needs, too.”

Arya let out a laugh, a halfhearted attempt to make the situation light. “I don’t doubt it…so Podrick?”

Sansa scowled, “It’s really none of your business.”

“Okay, you’ll tell me when you’re ready. Besides, I don’t want to squabble. It’s been near eight moon turns since I last saw you and three moon turns since your last letter. I’ve missed you.” She pulled her sister into a tight hug, catching Sansa off guard.

Arya was never one for physically intimacy, but she did miss her sister and she wanted to breathe in a familiar scent. Not one mixed with sea salt and sweat.

“I’ve miss you! I thought you weren’t due back for a least a few more moon turns! Why the sudden appearance?” Sansa asked as soon as Arya had let her go.

“The season is changing, and spring is on the horizon. I wanted to see Winterfell before the last snows melted.” She said truthfully, although there were certain truths she chose to omit.

“Well, I’m glad you’re back. Maybe Sandor will be in a lighter mood with you around.” She smiled, taking another sip of her wine.

Arya chuckled, “Has he been insufferable?”

“Not really…well not until Lord Baratheon showed up. Ever since, Sandor has been sour. They bicker all the time, those two! No wonder one spends his time in the smithy and the other in the armory.”

Arya nearly chocked on her wine, “Gendry is here!? When!? I thought you said he was in Lannisport.”

“He was three moon turns ago. He finished his training with Jamie and decided to venture North. He decided to ride, the poor man! Took the long road. Not sure why he didn’t sail. Although, I do recall him saying he wanted to see Westeros without being chased for his head.”

Arya threw her chair back, rising from the oak table. She had gulped the rest of her wine down before turning on her heel to leave her sister’s chambers.

“Where are you going?” Sansa yelled after her.

She ignored her and continued on her path to the smithy.

There were millions of thoughts swimming through her head as she made her way through the castle. It had been nearly a year since she last saw him, and although she had thought of hundreds of conversations and scenarios for when she saw him again, nothing could have prepared her for their eventually reunion.

What was she to say to him?

The truth would be a good place to start.

She was the one who burned them down, with her being stuck in her head. She was the one who was afraid of commitment, thus ruining one of the only good things the gods had decided to give her. It was constant pattern, where she would break what she loved so much. All because she was afraid of admitting the truth to herself.

She reached the smithy and he wasn’t hard to miss.

Gendry Baratheon was pounding away at an anvil, with fire in his eyes and power in his arms. What he was making, Arya couldn’t tell, but it enough to warrant shear strength as he brought the hammer over the heated steel, making it sing.

Arya flinched at the sound but continued to watch in silence.

It wasn’t until he brought the hammer above his head, did he dare a glance in direction; his fatal swing hung in the air.

He was stunned, perhaps a bit angry, but stunned, nonetheless.

He brought the hammer to his side, placing it on the worktable behind him, before cleaning his soot stained hands on his apron.

Arya watched as he took a deep breath, almost as if to steady himself, before he began to stride in her direction. She could feel the pace of her heart quicken as his steps came closer.

He hadn’t changed, no since she last saw him. Maybe his hair was a bit longer and his arms a bit broader, but he was still the same Gendry when she left. His face, though, had looked worn and she hated seeing him so low and all she wanted to do was lift hip up and never let him go.

There was silence between them once he finally stood before her; his eyes baring down into her soul.

She could see his thoughts swimming in his blue irises, trying to muster the words to say to her.

“Arya.” He finally conceded, only able to say her name.

“Gendry.” She said, an edge of nerves laced behind her voice.

“You’re back.”

She nodded, “I am.”

“Did you know I was here? In Winterfell?”

“No.”

Arya could see the emotions written on his face.

He was angry, sad, confused, and maybe a little relieved. There was so much that she couldn’t decipher, so much that she wished he would just say, instead of swaying back and forth on his feet, almost as if he was going to run away.

“What are you doing here?” There was a bite to his voice that left a sting on her ears.

“It’s Winterfell, it’s my home I-”

“No, back in Westeros.”

“I-I…” She saw him turn on his heel, but quickly grabbed his arm to stop him.

“Wait! Don’t walk away…please.” She begged.

“Arya-”

“I’m sorry. It’s my fault, all of it. I’m sorry that I hurt you. I didn’t want to do that to you, but I did anyway. And I don’t want to lose this with you, even though I may have already.” She whispered, trying to keep the tears that were threatening to spill over. “I know what I did was unforgivable, but I’ve been living these past moon turns hating myself for getting in my head. I was stupid, and I realize that now.”

“Oh, Arry.” His hand came to caress her face and his eyes softened.

“Just tell me that you’re still mine and that’ll we’ll be okay. And I know I broke your heart, but please tell me that I am still what you want, because you’re what I want.” Her damn was on the verge of breaking

“Arya, I’ve never stopped being yours. I may be angry with you, but I will never stop wanting or loving you.”

She let out a sob, before pulling his lips to hers.

They were just how she remembered them, soft and chapped and tasting of soot. She didn’t care if there were people staring at them or if The Hound would tease her later for it, she was just happy that Gendry had forgiven her.

It wasn’t easy to do, forgiving her for something like that, but that just proved what type of person Gendry was and will always be. He was loving and kind, but also fierce and strong and would do anything to make sure she was safe, even if she didn’t see that before.

When they could no longer breathe, they pulled apart, their chests huffing the crisp air.

“You’re crying.” Gendry said as he wiped a tear from her face. “You hardly cry.”

It must be an obscenely sight; Arya Stark crying. It had been so long since she cried, that she was sure her tears had dried. She had been this broken thing for so long, that with the return or spring and changing season, that perhaps she could change along with it.


End file.
